ho was going to
do what? He was having a vision, that much was clear.
Right. So I was feeling kind of lonely, kind of solipsistic
for a moment there when the band was
playing and everybody dancing and
everything, dont get me wrong, I love Ireland from the heather
blazing, the wet green everywhere, the ruins of fortresses just sitting
lichen, a part of the landscape, and of course the frothy sweet taste
of the Liffey Guinness, but I was just in a kind of a funk. This was
course after the big soul-washing in, where was that, uh, Switzerland
after Paris, which was dangerous and crazy, and London,
which was lovely but decrepit. And heroin,
let me tell you, that shits worse than cigarettes. I guess it
was just the craze, all the supermodels were doing it, it was a fictional
a lie at best, a fatal flaw in the whole storytelling paradigm at worst.
I had the shakes now and then. I sometimes felt cold, angry, and
a man without a country, a shithead who had worn waxed wings and flown
too close to the sun.
I met this guy Buck on the flight over, and he seemed like a nice guy,
witty guy, and hed invited me to have a drink with him and some
of his pals that evening, and I did, he invited me to come by a party
in a hospital.
Hes like a surgical resident, so I figured what the fuck, why not?
My friends in the Unknown, and of course Frank, are some of the best
Ill ever have, but sometimes I just need to get away from them
for a while, get a breath of fresh air, do some work on other projects,
and pace and meander, see some new faces, that sort of thing. So I say,
I get there and it turns out were waiting for this sort of friend
of theirs Mina to give birth, but theyre like privileged
upper-middle-class surgical students or something like that and
they can get a room downstairs and just crack open the bottles and
there in the room. And drain. Then you would not believe thisthey
start talking in Old English and shit like that for ten minutes, meanwhile,
in my point of view, being completely obtuse and offensive while doing
it and this one dude really offends this other dude in Cockney or something
I dont know fucking Welsh, like the other guy can somehow fucking
understand a word hes saying? and meanwhile Im totally confused,
just pounding down pints because its the kind of situation where
you realize these
people are strange. These people are not ordinary. These people do
funny things in hospital rooms so I bug out of there as quickly as possible.
Somebody has slipped something in my drink is what I think when Im
waltzing out of there away from those strange fuckers, swore I heard
in like fifteen different kinds of English, and theyre supposed
to be medical doctors, where the fuck do they get all this spare time
to understand each other communicating in fucking fifteen different kinds
of English? What Im thinking. Scary.
So Im strolling again, wandering streets paved with rocks in old
Dublin, checking out the life forms, the people with the charming but
by history and religion type of lifestyle so
different from the one controlled exclusively
by media that I had come to know and love in the United States
of America. Which, I thought, pretty much completely fucks it up.
even then I was considering retiring to Ireland. So I wander a little
there and stop in at this little pub, Oxen of the Sun, and whos
sitting there but Roddy Doyle, Bono, and Kathy Ireland. Things are
kind of waxing
wavy at this point, and Im thinking Mickey, Mickey, by God, some
slipped me a damn Mickey, in my green! By the way, just an aside here,
I didnt mean Sonny Bono, who is the Dead Republican formerly married
to Cher, classic cheezy songs, bad politics,
but Bono, who is the living lead singer of a rock
and roll band you might have heard of, too.
I was kind of sweaty so I just kind of shied away from them, but Bono
spotted me straight off:
Hey, you arent? You are! You are you damn glad bastard you
one of the Unknown, right?
Well, Mr. Bono, so I am, so what do you know, no big deal. Buy
you a drink?
You tear my cards, Scotto. Round's on me. Im a rock
star, baby. You know. Im a star. Round's on me. And dont
call me mister, mister. You damn Americans are so, so fucking formal.
Yeah. Mrs. . . . Ireland, isnt it?
Oh, for the love of God, dont call me Mrs. Its Kathy,
please, just Kathy.
Arent you a supermodel?
Yeh. Im a supermodel, but I have a life, too, you know.
Yes, here! In fuggin Dublin, yuh grubby mummer. Where did you think
Id go? Fuggin Paris?
Its nice there.
Dont mean to be full of piss and vinegar, its just, I get tired of
the fuggin Ireland thing. Its me name, dont wear it out.
I apologize, Kathy. Ive just been . . . distracted
Did you really write The Unknown? I love that hypertext.
It is so hot
Im just one of many writers, ma'am, of the Unknown. Its
nothing, really. Mr. Doyle, its a hell of a pleasure to meet you,
Ive read your
What, you think you can just walk in here and start dictating
Mr. Doyle, Im a great admirer of your work
Ive seen you people on the television
and let me tell you
Roddy, youre one of the more authentic writers out there, as far
as Im concerned
All we get on the satellite is the Unknown this, the Unknown that. Youre
just another band of upstarts, in my estimation. You forget the sound
of the real spoken voice, what real words mean to real people, you forget
the whole washbasin. Ah, tahellwithit. Another pint?
Well, Im, Id love to, but my friends, we have some
kind of reading going on or something, I gotta go. IllIll
write you sometime, write you sometime. I may be back here, in Kilarney,
Come back to Dublin, well play football, yuh spry fella yuh.
Ill write you Roddy. Kathy, wonderful, absolutely wonderful to mee
Leaeeave early then, suit yourself, and I suppose were just a cold
cup of tea and a stale biscuit? Not worth the time
Just pulling your sod there, Unknown.
Well, later on then.
Hey Scott, wait up, this is the number of my people. I want you on the
tour next time.
What, like a sideshow?
Something onstage. You up for it? Youll be global, baby,
platinum. Maybe we could do a CD. Something interactive.
Ill talk to the guys. Well have to call Marla
Ill fly you out, private jet.
Were in, but
Dont let Dirk sing. Bad things could happen
if you do. First of all, it doesnt sound good, if you ask me, and second
of all, it has some weird effects that could be dangerous. People do the
strangest things. Were talking Altamont revisited. Cool?